A Flood of Sweet Fire

by Sandra Marton

  'Blair,' he whispered, his arms around her a refuge for her fear, 'it's all right, sweet, it's all right.'

  'I was so scared,' she murmured. 'Oh, Rhys, I imagined ... I thought .. .'

  He rocked her gently, crooning softly to her. 'Shh,' he said, 'shh, everything is going to be fine.'

  'Wh-what happened? Did you ... was there someone out there?'

  He let out his breath. 'Yes,' he said finally. 'A man.' Blair's heart thudded erratically. 'Did you ... did you catch him?'

  He shook his head. 'No,' he said tightly.

  'But you were gone so long,' she whispered. 'I thought I thought ... I was afraid .. .'

  His arms tightened around her. 'I was gone too damned long,' he said gruffly. 'It was stupid of me. I should never have left you alone.'

  'I wasn't afraid for myself,' she said quickly. 'I was afraid for you. I thought something had happened to you.' .

  'Come on,' he said gruffly. 'Let's get the hell out of here. Can you make it down that slope? We'll get back to the car a lot faster than if we take the pathway.' 'But what happened, Rhys? Aren't you going to tell me?'

  'Later,' he said flatly. 'When we're safe.'

  A chill danced across her shoulders. 'Safe!' Her voice was a thready whisper and she cleared her throat. 'Is somebody after us?'

  'Just hold on to my hand and watch your footing,' Rhys said. 'The grass is slippery.'

  Suddenly, the garden seemed ominous. Shadows she knew were only trees seemed to reach out towards her; a night bird called out once, its voice high and piercing, and she shivered. But Rhys's hand clasped her tightly. The strength and warmth of his body seemed to infuse a courage to hers as he led her down the grassy hill to the street where they'd left the Land Rover. It was only when they were finally locked safely inside it that she let out a· shaky laugh.

  'You scared the life out of me back there, Rhys.'

  He glanced into the rear view mirror as he gunned the engine to life. 'I didn't mean to,' he said, pulling out from the kerb. 'I just didn't want to take any more chances than I already have.'

  The Rover's headlights cut a narrow swath through the wet darkness. Rhys switched on the windscreen wipers; their soft sound seemed to fill the car. 'Chances? What chances.'

  His eyes slid to the rear view mirror again. 'Where would you like to begin?' he asked grimly. 'For starters, I should never have left you alone on that terrace. If there was somebody following us ...'

  'If? You mean, you're not certain?'

  He shook his head. 'I'm not, no. I saw somebody in the shadows. But I never caught up to him-I realized I'd left you alone. If there was somebody up there, if he had a partner .. .'

  Blair shivered. 'Is there-does this car have a heater?

  I'm terribly cold.'

  'You're soaked through,' he said, looking at her and then back at the road. 'There's a rug in the back seat, under some magazines-I saw it this morning. Can you reach it?'

  Blair unbuckled her seat-belt and twisted around in the seat. 'Yes,' she said, 'I can just about .. .' Her teeth chattered as she wrapped the musty blanket around herself.

  'Better?' 'Ye ... hes.'

  'Take a deep breath. And another. Good girl.' His voice softened and his hand covered hers. 'Don't be frightened, Blair. I won't let anything happen to you.'

  Guilt cut through her. 'I know you won't,' she whispered, running her tongue across her dry lips. 'Rhys? That man in the park-there are lots of reasons he might have been standing there.'

  Rhys nodded. 'Absolutely.'

  'Then why-why did you react that way?'

  His eyes were glued to the mirror. Blair turned her head and looked out the rear window. A car was overtaking them; its headlights grew larger and larger, until finally it pulled abreast of the Rover and passed them. She let out her breath as it pulled away.

  'Why did I react what way?'

  She turned her head and looked at him. 'You jumped to the worst possible conclusion the second you saw that man.'

  He shrugged his shoulders. 'It's one of the things you learn in this business. Yeah, there were a dozen reasons to explain why a guy would stand in the shadows on a rainy night. He might have been walking his dog. Maybe he'd had a fight with his wife and wanted to cool off.' He laughed unpleasantly. 'Hell, for all I know, he was a peeper. Maybe he gets his kicks watching couples make love.'

  'Then, if you thought of all those things, why ...' 'Because he could have been there for another reason, one that would have endangered you. And it wasn't worth taking the chance.'

  'And ... and the gun?'

  'The first thing you learn about guns is the most important.' He looked across the car at her and then back at the road. 'Never carry one unless you're prepared to use it.'

  Her throat felt as if it were closing. 'And you'd use it to protect Meryl Desmond?'

  'Don't tell me we're going to have a debate about gun control.'

  She managed a small, shaky laugh. 'It's just a simple question, Rhys.'

  'Hell, guns kill. That's the only function they have-no one wants to use a gun.'

  She looked at him and then at the rain-swept road. 'But you'd use it if you had to.'

  He looked at her; in the faint light from the dashboard, she could see the frown on his face.

  'What's going on, Blair?'

  'It's just that-there's a risk, isn't there? I mean, suppose ... suppose you were protecting somebody. and ... and you made a mistake.'

  'No one's infallible,' he said quietly. 'We all make mistakes.'

  'But that kind of mistake ... the kind we're talking about ...' Blair's voice dropped to a whisper. 'That's a terrible responsibility, isn't it?'

  Rhys nodded. 'Yes, it is,' he said flatly. 'When I worked for the Company .. .' His voice hardened. 'Maybe it's different now ... but in those days, they used the men in the field like chess pieces. They sat in their offices, playing their games, a million miles removed from the real world. And they manipulated us. Hell, we-were expendable. All that mattered was the game.' She heard the breath rasp in his throat and then his hand sought hers. 'Do you understand what I'm saying, Blair? There are bastards out there who think this is a game, but I never have.'

  Weeks later, Blair would remember that moment as if it had been frozen in time. She would remember the sound of the windscreen wipers, the patter of the rain, the rawness in Rhys's voice-but most of all she would remember the swelling sorrow that rose within her, like a giant hand closing around her throat and keeping the air from her lungs. She could barely breathe, and she knew she couldn't speak, and so she simply nodded and returned the pressure of Rhys's fingers while she stared blindly ahead into the blackness of the rain-chilled night.

  The lie she'd been living the past days had become hard to bear, but now it was agony. How could she have been so stupid? Everything Rhys had done, from that moment at the airport, had been for her safety. But tonight-tonight, for the first time, she had finally realized that the rules of his profession could be deadly. This wasn't the simple charade Meryl and her father had asked her to perform. Rhys would be angry when he knew the truth, Oscar Desmond had said. She could still hear that self-confident whisper.

  'I'll straighten things out,' he'd assured her, but she knew with a piercing clarity that he'd never be able to do that. Game players never saw the pieces bleed.

  She thought of the man in the shadows, the gun in Rhys's hand, and she shuddered. What if Rhys had caught him? Someone might have been killed. Dear God, she thought, turning her face to the window. She wanted to curse, to pound her fist against the dashboard. Damn both the Desmonds! 'It's just a harmless gag,' Meryl had said, but there was nothing harmless about what she'd been doing. She was playing a terrible game, a dangerous game.

  That was what Rhys had tried to tell her at the beginning, when he'd thought she was making light of all his efforts to keep her safe. How he'd disliked her then and how he'd despise her now, when he realized she'd used him, manipulated him in a game with no meaning.
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  She turned towards him quickly, before she lost her courage. 'Rhys,' she said, 'Rhys, listen .. .'

  He gave her a quick smile. 'I thought you were asleep.' 'No, I ... I wasn't asleep. I was thinking.' Tell him! 'Rhys .. .'

  His hand closed over hers. 'You're still cold,' he said. 'We'll be at the farmhouse soon; I'll build us a fire. How does that sound?'

  'Rhys, please, I ... I .. .' She swallowed and drew in her breath. 'We ... we never telephoned Rome today, did we?'

  'Your father, you mean? We'll drive to Fiorello in the morning.' He cleared his throat. 'You must be eager to get back to Rome. This isn't the vacation you'd planned, is it?'

  Her heart was beating wildly. 'Rhys, I have to tell you ...

  This vacation ... It's-not .. .' Her courage failed her and she began again. 'I have to tell you about me ... about Meryl .. .'

  'Later.'

  She shook her head. 'No,' she said desperately, 'no, I can't put it off any longer. I should have told you days ago. I .. .'

  'Dammit, Blair-later!'

  His voice had turned hard and threatening, just as it had been earlier in the Boboli Gardens. Blair turned to him in surprise just as he reached out and killed the headlights. The black night seemed to close down around them.

  'What is it?' she whispered. Her eyes flew to the rearview mirror. Had he been right? Was someone following them? 'Did you see something?'

  The Rover slowed and stopped. 'Easy,' Rhys breathed.

  She felt him shift in the seat beside her. 'Where the hell ... there it is,' he said.

  Her pulse was galloping. 'What?' she asked, her voice barely audible. 'Not ... not a gun .. .'

  'No,' he said. 'The starlight scope-I just want to take a look at the house and .. .' She watched as he raised the scope and scanned the hill slowly. 'OK,' he said finally. 'Everything's looking good.'

  'You did see something,' Blair insisted. 'Please, tell me the truth.'

  The Rover was inching forward again. 'I am telling you the truth,' he said softly. 'This is just a precaution. There hasn't been another car behind us for better than half an hour. But I'd rather be safe than sorry. If we run without lights, we'll be damned near invisible on a night like this.' He touched her hand lightly. 'I just don't want to take any more chances.'

  'I don't remember you taking any.'

  'I took chances all day,' he said. A flint-edged grimness crept into his voice. 'What we did was crazy. We should have dropped off the Lamborghini, picked up the Rover, and got the hell out of Florence.' .

  A bittersweet sorrow filled her, and she spoke before she had time to consider her words. 'I'm glad we had today,' she murmured.

  He laughed softly and laced his fingers through hers. 'So am I. It's been a terrific day-I just want to make sure it stays that way. Keep very still, and we'll do the last hundred yards with our eyes and ears open, OK?'

  She held her breath while they drove towards the house. The rain had stopped, but the moon remained hidden behind a high bank of scudding clouds. The blackness outside the car had an almost palpable presence, the silence an ominous weight that seemed ready to crush her eardrums with its intensity. When Rhys turned off the engine, the silence became an oppressive entity.

  'OK,' he said softly, 'I'm going to go in and check the house. You wait out here until I come for you.' The thought of being separated from him terrified her.

  'No,' she said quickly, 'I want to be with you.' 'Blair ...'

  She drew in her breath. 'Please.'

  She heard him sigh. 'All right. Just stay behind me.' As if she'd dare stay anywhere else, she thought, following after him. The door squeaked when he unlocked it and pushed it open; Rhys stepped into the room and she followed him as closely as his shadow. A single, narrow beam of light danced through the kitchen from the flashlight in his hand.

  'Stay here,' he said after a moment. 'Rhys .. .'

  'Stay here,' he repeated in a voice that permitted no argument.

  'Blair nodded, even though she knew he couldn't see her. She took a hesitant step back, then another, until finally she felt the cold press of the stone wall against her shoulder’s. Her eyes widened, trying to see into the blackness, but it was impossible. Where was Rhys? She couldn't hear a thing, not even the faintest footfall. God, where was he?

  What was that? A rustling noise. Yes, there it was again. It was coming from the bedroom. No, from the passage beyond the bedroom. The outhouse, she thought suddenly. Had Rhys remembered to check the outhouse? Maybe she should go after him. Maybe ...

  Again! The rustling noise and a thump and, lord, please, no, no ...

  'Don't, she cried as someone loomed out of the shadows, 'don't. . .'

  Rhys's arms closed tightly around her. 'Blair, sweet, it's me. It's me.'

  'Rhys.' His name was all she could think to say, all she was capable of. 'Rhys,' she said again, pressing her trembling body against his. 'I heard ... I thought there was somebody .. .'

  'Something, not somebody,' he chuckled. 'There was a mouse convention in the outhouse.'

  Blair laughed softly, and the salty taste of her own tears filled her mouth.

  'Thank God,' she whispered. 'You wouldn't believe the things I pictured ... I'm sorry.'

  Rhys shifted his body, settling her more closely against him. 'For what? Hell, never apologies for being frightened, Blair. We're all afraid sometimes.'

  Suddenly, she became aware of the way he was holding her against him. The hard length of his body was pressed against hers from shoulder to thigh. Her cheek lay against his chest; beneath her ear, his heartbeat was strong and rapid. Her lashes fluttered closed as she drew in her breath. The smell of him filled her nostrils. All she had to do, she thought suddenly, was lift her hand and touch his face. His skin would be warm and supple beneath her fingers, and his mouth-his mouth ...

  'Don't you ... don't you want to light the lamp?' His hand cupped her head and lifted her face towards him. 'We don't need it,' he said softly. 'See? The moon is rising. I can see your cheek.' He bent his head and brushed his lips across her skin. 'And your eyes.' His lips moved gently across her closed eyelids. 'And your mouth.' She drew in her breath as his lips touched hers. 'I love the taste of your mouth,' he whispered as he kissed her. 'It tastes like honey. And cream. And .. .'

  'Rhys, we can't .. .'

  'We can. We can do whatever we want to do, whatever feels right. And this is right.' His lips touched her throat and her head fell back. 'You know it is. You've known it all along.' His fingers traced the outline of her lips. 'Tell me you want me,' he murmured. 'Tell me .. .'

  His voice was husky, thick with a longing and a promise that made the blood begin to pound in her ears. And his mouth-oh, the feel of his mouth on her skin, on her earlobe, on her lips, the heated, firm caress of it, the taste of it ...

  'Please,' she said desperately. 'Rhys-you have to listen to me. I have to ... I have to .. .'

  'What are you afraid of? Is it me? Tell me it isn't.' 'No, no, not you,' she said, putting her hands against his chest. 'I'm not afraid of you, Rhys. Never of you.'

  'We're safe here,' he whispered, catching her hand in his and lifting it to his lips. 'Trust me,' he breathed against her palm. 'Trust me, Blair. I'll never let anything hurt you.'

  She moaned as he drew her fingers into his mouth, one at a time. 'Please,' she whispered, 'please, don't, don't .. .'

  He bent his head to hers and kissed her. Her mouth parted as his lips touched hers, and she moaned again. His hands slipped beneath her jacket, beneath her sweater. They were hot and hard against her skin, and yet they felt like silk as they moved over her, touching her, gentling her.

  'Rhys,' she gasped, twisting away from his seeking mouth, 'you have to listen to me. You don't know me. I'm not the woman you think I am ... I. . .'

  'Look at me,' he demanded. Slowly, she turned her face up to his. A watery moon had risen in the black sky, casting a strange half-light on his features. In the milky illumination, his eyes gleamed with silver
flame as they looked into hers. 'Now tell me you don't want this,' he said thickly. She gasped as his hand cupped her breast over her thin cotton camisole. 'Tell me, and I'll stop.'

  'I ... I .. .' Her head fell back on her neck. She could feel her nipple press into his palm, feel her body arching towards his, seeking him as a flower seeks the sun. 'Rhys, please .. .'

  'Please, what?' he whispered. 'Tell me, Blair. All you have to do is tell me what you want.'